The last kiss. His lips were like the relationship.
Cracked and dry.
The wind was bitter and the car vents were sweet.
Only because they were warm, like his lips.
She said it was hard to leave him.
But she did that in August on a blue scooter.
It was less cold then, but filled with thunder and rain.
Floods of wine and half looks.
They both remembered the warmth of a spring
filled with muppets, ginger, and illusions.
Bedrooms on fire. A warmth that knew no end.
They remembered as the rain came in from Seattle.
Here they are at the end of the world as they know it.
Driving apart like Columbus, hoping for new worlds.
Praying they just aren’t lost at Lake Michigan.
Doomed to drown in strange waters.
She drove talking to mice and echoing memories.
The cold slid out slowly like text messages.
The car was aiming for India. Its warm there.
Like his lips.
Notes: All relationships have a final parting. This poem tries to capture one of those moment for me and is filled with the little specifics that draw me back to that moment very easily. As most failed relationships, there are ups & downs; positives & negatives; joys & despairs. All of those feelings made me think of an explorer leaving for a new world, filled with wonder and doubt. I hope you all enjoyed.
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